


Deep in my bones I can feel you (take me back to a time only we knew)

by Dividedpoet



Series: Throw me a lifeline ('Cause honey I got nothing to lose): The Ballad of Bone Dry [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dividedpoet/pseuds/Dividedpoet
Summary: The second time Bucky pulls his right arm back to strike another spot on his best friend's face, a set of arms wrap around him, hooking behind his neck to lock him in place.“Try to hit him again,” Pietro’s accent filters into his ear, thick and clipped. His heart beats a steady hum against Bucky’s back. “And we'll see how well these pins hold.” He punctuates the statement by leveraging his body against Bucky’s back. The metal arm makes a nasty grinding sound as his own body is used against him.In spite of the horrific noise the attachment makes, Bucky can't help but snort, “You know I could squeeze you ‘til you pop, right?”Pietro nods behind him. “Like a damn grape,” he says. Then adds, “Stop hitting your friend. Grow up.” With that he shoves Bucky sideways.Eyes fixed, Bucky watches Pietro’s hands flutter over Steve’s face with the speed and weight of a hummingbird. Steve pushes the hands away gently, sparing Pietro a kind smile before looking past him to Bucky.“What I said before stands. She was a kid. It's not fair to be mad at her for how she reacted back then..."





	1. Friday

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Here's the first chapter of the next part of the story. It's back along the current timeline. I just couldn't wait anymore to post plus I feared what would happen once schools starts back up. I hope that's okay and not too confusing!
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's been able to keep up with my trickling updates and welcome to anyone that's begun reading because of these updates. I appreciate you all!
> 
> This series is beta'd by the amazing [TeaAndTricks](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndTricks/pseuds/TeaAndTricks) and I will post this chapter/story fully edited once it's done.

Darcy looks back and forth between the two buildings before sighing. “Okay, I think we can get there this way,” she says, grabbing Bucky’s left hand. She was buying a textbook from one of the biology graduate students. At least she would be if she could find the office full of Biology TA cubicles.

Bucky follows her tow without question. Ten minutes into the trek, when they're wandering the halls of the building and they're about to pass the same bench he's almost tripped over four times, he arches an eyebrow at her. “Directions, your thing.”

Darcy looks around with a frown. “Does every hallway in the building lead to this one? How the fuck do we get out of here?”

Bucky gives an amused snort at her frustration. “I don't know, Darc. You're the one that actually remembers going to school here,” he says, poking her playfully in the side to try and get a smile. He is rewarded with just that, before she makes an attempt at checking him into the wall.

Bucky bounces off the wall lightly to humor her, chuckling as he does. He hooks an arm around her neck when he returns to her side. “You’re a feisty dame.”

Darcy chuckles as she presses into his side. Her body relaxes against his. “Yes I am and you love me,” she says.

As soon as the words come tumbling out of Darcy’s mouth, they both freeze. For different reasons, Bucky assumes.

Distantly Bucky can hear her correcting herself. “It,” she says weakly.

But it doesn't really matter. Because Bucky’s hair is short, he's in ROTC gear, and with his arm hooked around Darcy's neck he can feel her fingers woven through the ones of his left hand. _His_ left hand.

She's laughing at what they've just said as they come to a stop in front of a bench that bisects the hall along one wall.

 _“Yeah, I do,”_ Bucky says, pulling a younger Darcy toward him.

Things shift. 

He's still in the hallway with Darcy but they're across from each other avoiding eye contact. 

Finally he clears his throat. _”Um, hey. How’s it going?”_ He clears his throat again. _”I, um, I didn't know they let freshmen take this in the wintermester,”_ he says then closes his eyes. _”Ah shit, I mean - “_

Darcy’s reply is quick. _”I didn't know they let juniors procrastinate this much.”_

Bucky shifts around on the bench, hands clasped in front of him. _”Come on Darc, please don't be mad at me.“_

Darcy looks at the few people at either end of the hall before taking the few steps toward Bucky. _”I haven't heard from you since before Thanksgiving break when, might I remind, you showed up at my dorm room,“_ Darcy hisses.

 _”I know,”_ Bucky says quickly before she can continue. _”I know, okay, and I'm sorry. I just had to figure some shit out,”_ he says evasively.

Darcy snorts, heedless of their potential onlookers. _”What the fuck did you need to figure out?”_ she asks. _”How to let down your freshman bestie after you fuck her?”_ She shakes her head. _“Don't worry, James. I get it, okay.”_

Bucky shakes his head. _”No! I - “_ he casts a cursory glance around. _”Fuck this,”_ and he’s standing, moving forward to kiss her right there in the hallway. It’s searing and it feels so good. Fulfilling. He pulls away just enough to fit a hand over her mouth before she can speak. _”You're a feisty dame, and I am so in love with you,"_ he says quietly.

The memory shifts again and Darcy is gone. Bucky’s sitting on a bench that bisects the hallway along the wall waiting for freshman biology to start because yes he did put that off for two years. When he hears the elevator doors open at the end of the hall he wonders if the teacher has come to open the classroom.

The girl that steps off the elevator is definitely not the teacher. When she sees Bucky sitting there she hikes her messenger bag up on her shoulder and goes to stand across from the bench.

They remain in silence for a while, the girl repeatedly catching Bucky watching her. Finally she sighs. _“Are you waiting for freshman biology?”_

Bucky nods, actually embarrassed.

The girl rolls her eyes, but she has this little smile on her face that he's having trouble with. _”Did you try the door?”_

Bucky shakes his head.

She nods. _”Right on,”_ she says before pushing off of the wall and walking toward the door. She twists the knob and presses, the door opening with ease and the light coming on automatically. She gives a satisfied _Ha!_ before crossing the threshold.

Bucky stares at the spot where she was for a few seconds before she pops her head back out. 

_”Oh, you're too pretty to be embarrassed,”_ she says. Then, _”Are you coming?”_ She disappears back into the room. Bucky only stays put for a few more seconds before standing and following her lead. Once in the room he looks over and sees she’s patting the spot next to her two rows back from the front and closer than he normally sits. Bucky laughs and goes to sit down. _”I'm Darcy,”_ she says.

Bucky comes back to himself then, except now with the knowledge that Darcy’s peculiar behavior at eighteen pulled him in just as quickly as it does when she is twenty-five and that he was just as stubborn at twenty-two as he is at twenty-eight.

The hall is silent as Bucky stares down at the bench. This bench. This -

“I met you on this bench,” he breathes out, “I told you I _loved you_ here.”

“You remember,” Darcy says, voice shaking. “Holy shit, you - “ she cuts off with a small whimper before she clears her throat. “You remember,” she repeats again, breathy this time. 

Bucky hears her, and he hears her. He hears freshman Darcy telling him to shut the fuck up as he pokes her leg under the table in their biology class before things got weird. He feels her eyes on him from across the room when he switches seats after.

Bucky is having trouble unlocking his arm from around Darcy’s neck. The plates just don't seem to want to slide. Nothing will respond to his muscle movements. He doesn't know that he’s squeezing until Darcy says, very calmly, “James, you're going to break my hand.” 

He lets go then, the arm and fingers suddenly listening to him. 

Darcy moves back into the bench, hand going behind her. Hiding. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that,” Bucky says, voice relatively calm but with a slight tremor.

Darcy nods once, “I know.”

Bucky gulps. He can't look at her, can't lift his eyes from the tile. Conceptually he feels guilt, but this longingsadnessanger has begun to bloom in his chest. Like wondering where she went for _seven years_ is all hitting him at once. “I need to leave.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees her nod, sinking down onto the bench, but he doesn't wait. Bucky has no trouble finding the exit now.

He walks. Out of the building and off campus. Toward the shop. He won't stay there. He - no he just needs to make sure Clint can take care of things and then he needs -

Bucky doesn't finish the thought. Steve is standing outside of Bone Dry; suit jacket draped over his briefcase on the ground, collar unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up.

With Steve’s hands raised in front of him Bucky knows that Darcy called him already. He must have been inside. Bucky’s anger surges, feelings of disbelief and hurt dancing at the edges. As he approaches Steve starts to speak, “Look, Buck, I didn't mean for things to - “

“What the fuck did you think would happen when I remembered her?” he booms, face flushing with anger. Bucky advances on Steve, fisting his hands in his vest. He pushes Steve back into the storefront, mindful of the large glass window but not enough to deter his behavior entirely. “I mean if your goal was to keep the soldier away, did you think I’d go, ‘Oh, that makes sense’ and just accept it?”

Steve's arms come up, knocking Bucky’s right hand free. The left jerks enough to result in a tearing sound but otherwise doesn't release. “I was kind of hoping so, yeah,” Steve bites out. 

Bucky pulls Steve toward him with his left hand before he slams him backward again. As calm as Steve was, anger flashes across his face in an instant. When Steve’s knee connects with Bucky’s groin, Bucky releases his left hand automatically.

“Oh fuck, pal,” Bucky wheezes out as he doubles over. Steve nudges a hand against his shoulder and Bucky stumbles back.

Steve rubs his collarbone gingerly. “Don’t ‘oh fuck, pal’ me,” he snaps. “What was I supposed to do? Bucky, you _loved her_. You loved her so fucking much you bought her a _ring_. So I go to you and I tell you that and...what? What happens then?”

Bucky straightens up but sounds slightly pained when he speaks. “You told me when she came to visit you, you told her to go fuck herself,” he says. “That was bullshit?”

Steve shakes his head, “No, I did say that. The first time she came to my office - “

“But she came back,” Bucky cuts him off. It isn't a question.

Steve nods all the same, “The day after Pietro’s trial.”

Bucky closes his eyes slowly because he remembers that day. An ache begins to vibrate through his chest as he thinks about Darcy in Steve’s office asking to come back into his life. Did she look like she does now? Or was she something closer to the girl he knew? Maybe there was another phase in there. It was a long time -

Bucky shakes his head. “The fuck, Stevie,” he hisses. 

Steve clenches his jaw. “What, Buck? Can you honestly tell me you didn’t want that life anymore? Jesus, look at how your memory has been coming back. You think this would have happened if I told you who she was first? If I told you about her?”

Bucky shrugs, “I don't know, but it’s mine and I had a right to make that choice.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Well you’re not exactly the best at rational decision making,” he says. As soon as the words leave his mouth it’s as if time slows.

Bucky doesn't black out per se; nothing that violent. However, in what feels like a matter of moments, he has pinned Steve back against the wall and is hitting him. He can tell, in the instant before the first punch, that Steve lets him. The second time he pulls his right arm back to strike another spot on his best friend's face, a set of arms wrap around him, hooking behind his neck to lock him in place. 

“Try to hit him again,” Pietro’s accent filters into his ear, thick and clipped. His heart beats a steady hum against Bucky’s back. “And we'll see how well these pins hold.” He punctuates the statement by leveraging his body against Bucky’s back. The metal arm makes a nasty grinding sound as his own body is used against him.

In spite of the horrific noise the attachment makes, Bucky can't help but snort, “You know I could squeeze you ‘til you pop, right?”

Pietro nods behind him. “Like a damn grape,” he says. Then adds, “Stop hitting your friend. Grow up.” With that he shoves Bucky sideways. 

The older man doesn't give much ground but Pietro is able to slip between him and Steve. Eyes fixed, Bucky watches Pietro’s hands flutter over Steve’s face with the speed and weight of a hummingbird. Steve pushes the hands away gently, sparing Pietro a kind smile before looking past him to Bucky.

“What I said before stands. She was a kid. It's not fair to be mad at her for how she reacted back then - “ Bucky opens his mouth to cut Steve off so he continues quickly. “And it's not fair to be mad at me for helping the girl you've been head over heels for every time you've met her try and fit herself into your new world.”

Bucky snaps his mouth shut with a click because there's that ache again. 

It’s a little surprising when Pietro growls, “Could you _not_ encourage him to take his frustration out on your face?” at Steve. 

Steve actually laughs as Pietro leads him away. 

Bucky glances into the shop, trying to sort his emotions. It only takes a moment before he’s walking again. Determined and...entirely aimless. He has nowhere he wants to go. All of the things he typically does are associated with things he doesn't want to think about right now. 

After power walking around the park for two hours, Bucky finally heads home. He’s ignored countless calls and texts from Natasha at this point. Nothing from Darcy.

That being said, he can't say he's entirely surprised to see Darcy sitting on his couch when he gets to his apartment. Her feet are bare and pulled up on the cushions, knees hiding most of her body from view. Still, he freezes in the doorway as all of the memories and feelings that accompany this woman come rushing at him once more.

“Darcy - “ he begins.

She hasn't looked at him yet but when she shakes her head it’s enough to cut him off. “I saw you once after the accident,” she says finally, the words shaky but determined. “The day after, actually. I was going through things looking for your insurance card for your mom,” she pauses to smile, but it’s watery. “She was so mad at herself for giving it to you - “ Darcy cuts off with a laugh, but it almost sounds like a sob. “I found the ring while you were in the hospital,” Darcy whispers quickly before he can say anything, eyes still unfocused. “I found the ring and I wasn’t strong anymore. I was nineteen years old and the most wonderful man I’d ever met didn’t remember that he wanted to marry me.” Her voice has begun shaking. “I wasn't ever one of those little girls that dreamed of that, you know.” she trails off. Shrugs. Sighs. “But with you,” her voice is so soft it’s difficult to hear. “With you I’d try anything.”

Bucky’s left hand is still on the knob of the closed door behind him as he unconsciously digs his lower back into it. Idly, he knows it’s not a knob anymore. At least not in the strictest sense. More a hunk of mangled metal…

“My trip to the hospital that night to bring your mom that fucking insurance card is what sealed the deal,” she adds, words still soft but firm.

As they settle in his mind, he remembers. Not something he didn’t remember, more of a memory he simply forgot he had.

Of a girl. In his hospital room. And him -

Bucky’s stomach drops.

The memory isn't as sharp as the ones he typically recalls, but it’s present.

He can see her then, compared to who she is now. He didn't know what to look for before. She doesn't have bangs anymore, but she did when he knew her. Now that she's reminded him, he can see them on the girl that walked into his room.

She looks frail in his memory, scared in a way he didn't recognize before but sees all too clearly now.

 _“Hey, um, hi,”_ she said.

Bucky hadn't talked to anyone but doctors, nurses, Steve, and his mom in...well, he wasn't really sure. He didn't feel like it’d been a long time, but they said it’d been a little while and everything looked a lot different. He looked at her like she was an annoying candy striper. He remembers that. He didn't think of her as being young in his memories of her, but in this one it's very clear how young she was.

 _”You, uh, you don't remember me do you?”_ she said. And he stared at her. He fucking stared at her. She must have realized the fault in her statement and flushed. _”Right, you don't remember much…”_ she trailed off and he continued to stare at her.

Bucky’s mother sat up, having woken from her very uncomfortable nap in the chair by his bed.

Darcy looked away then, not toward his mother but really anywhere she could. 

_”Sweetheart - “_ she began.

Darcy shook her head, sniffling. 

He didn't care. He remembers actively not caring. He was frustrated and his head hurt. Bucky stared down at where he wanted his left hand to be resting.

 _”I'm sorry - I, uh, I was just bringing you - ah shit,”_ Darcy wiped her eyes with both her hands before she started digging in her purse. She pulled out two items; a card and a white cardboard box. 

Wait. No. It was a sleeve. Around another box.

 _”I found everything you - uh - I found everything. I, um, I'm done loo-looking, I, um,”_ she quickly walked over to Bucky’s mom. She forced the items into her hands. Caroline looked like she wanted to drop the things and grab Darcy by the shoulders. _“I'm done, Carrie. I can't. I'm sorry,”_ she whispered.

Bucky’s mom froze there, watching Darcy leave. Bucky barely registered the conversation out of the corner of his eyes. It didn't mean anything at the time.

It’s everything now.

“It’s my fault you left,” he says quietly, eyes focusing on the wall across from him now.

Darcy shakes her head, “No! It wasn’t your fault. Jesus Bucky, you lost everything. You lost - “ she trails off, the words seeming to catch in her throat.

“Everything,” Bucky finishes for her with a nod. He pauses for a moment before his resolve settles and he pulls open his door. Good to know the mangled knob still works. “I need you to leave, Darcy.” Even as the words come out his voice vibrates. He doesn’t want her to leave at all. He wants to put his head in her lap like he did when she was nineteen and he was twenty-three and he wants to ask her where she _went_. _Why?_ He heard her story, heard the words, and he feels for it. But his chest hurts and there’s a part of his mind that just can’t seem to understand. It keeps forgetting. He needs that to stop.

Darcy shakes her head. “No, please, no,” she says, fresh tears coming down her cheeks.

A whimper works it way out of Bucky’s mouth as he watches Darcy, his Darcy. Fuck he missed her. The part of him that didn’t know where she’d gone, the part of him like an abandoned puppy. That part gives up his post at the door to drop to his knees in front of Darcy’s place on his couch. He surges forward, sliding his arms around her body and pressing his face into her stomach. His skin is humming.

As quickly as she gives him relief, that clawing starts at his chest again and he has to pull away from her, scrambling backward. “Please,” he says as his back connects with a chair. “Please it hurts,” the words are a whisper this time and Bucky honestly doesn't remember forming them. But Darcy hears him all the same, fixing him with one last pained glance before she slips her shoes back on and leaves the apartment.

Bucky hears keys in the unlatched locks on the door later that evening. He’s still sitting where Darcy left him on the floor and freezes completely before he remembers that, yes, he does have a roommate. Clint knocks the door open with his foot, arms full of grocery bags. He kicks it shut behind himself and moves to deposit the bags in the kitchen. When he turns to face Bucky it’s obvious that he knows what happened and why.

“Did you know who she was?” Bucky asks calmly, internally cursing the way his voice wavers on ‘she’. 

Clint’s answer is immediate. “I swear I wasn’t lying, man. I didn’t know who she was,” he says. 

Bucky nods absentmindedly. Because as much as he loves Clint, words are words to him at this point. It’s not a bitter thought, just a fact. “I think I'm gonna crash,” he says, standing from his seat on the floor. 

Clint nods but doesn't say anything else. He watches Bucky with steady eyes until Bucky closes his bedroom door. Bucky should wonder what happened there, why, anything.

Instead he drops right into bed, passing out as soon as his head hits the pillow.


	2. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On the way out the door he glances at the clock one last time. He may have gotten up early, but now he’s running late. It isn’t until the door clicks that Bucky realizes he’s left his house as well as shop keys on the kitchen counter. Bucky closes his eyes for a moment. How could he do that? It’s a rookie mistake he certainly doesn't have time for this morning. Not with everything he has to figure out._
> 
> _But when Bucky opens his eyes again something rather startling has happened; he’s standing behind the counter at his shop serving the last customer in a line._
> 
> _As the customer walks away Bucky surveys his surroundings. Maybe he never woke up and that distant memory he has of locking his keys in the apartment was a dream?_
> 
> _The pit blooming in Bucky’s stomach tells him that wasn't a dream. Just after eleven when Clint arrives for his shift Bucky steps out of the shop to confirm his suspicions. The mangled lock-box on the ground behind the building does just that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Dear LORD it took a long time to login tonight. BUT I was determined.
> 
> As always, my deepest apologies for such a long wait. I'm currently a week away from completing my last classes to get my master's degree from Johns Hopkins University which is SO cool but also mad stressful. I'll respond to each comment individually, but I'm so grateful for the continued comments and kudos. They seriously make my day and help me keep going. I love these characters so much and it still makes me so happy that you love them too.
> 
> Aaaaaaaaanyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's not currently beta'd but as that changes I'll update it. <3 <3

Bucky makes it through most of the night before the dreams start. Well, not dreams so much. But he feels everything is disjointed in the same way.

 _”Dude, pass me that,”_ Darcy says, pointing to her biology book across the table. They’ve been sitting in the library for seven hours, the last three of which have been spent studying for the in-class portion of an exam they finished the essay on that afternoon. Darcy has shifted spots three times. She started out sitting across from Bucky, then next to him, now catty corner. 

Bucky arches an eyebrow at her, _”Oh, three hours in is book cracking time?”_ he teases. 

Darcy’s cheeks flush but she plows forward. _“Hey, I’ve been filling out the practice quiz! Google is way more helpful than that boring book,”_ she says, turning her laptop toward him so he can see. She reaches across the table to grab the book herself, giving Bucky a clear view down her shirt. He can feel embarrassment try and flood his face as he does his best to smoothly turn away.

Because Darcy is eighteen years old. He and Natasha have enough problems without introducing that into the mix. 

Darcy groans, breaking Bucky out of his thoughts. _“It’s way too close to break for this shit,”_ she says.

Bucky snorts. _”I think that’s the point; intense working just before you go inhale turkey,”_ he says, completely forgetting to keep working in favor of watching her while they banter. 

_“Fuck you,”_ Darcy says flatly and Bucky barks out a laugh. Darcy gives him an amused smile before shaking her head and looking to open her book.

Bucky takes a cursory glance up at the wall opposite himself and straightens with a start. _”Darcy,”_ he says, pointing. _”Look.”_

Darcy looks at the clock he is motioning to and jumps up, _”Oh fuck,”_ she says, hastily gathering her things. Bucky joins her, shoving his laptop, papers, and books in his backpack. The essay portion of their test is due across campus in the biology building in fifteen minutes. They printed about an hour ago but wanted to keep working on the rest of the test.

They make it to the building in seven minutes, which is good because the Teaching Fellow leading their biology class is a stickler for time and the library is normally ten minutes away. Up the stairs and down the corridor, the old carpeted floor muffling the sound of their running, Darcy and Bucky spot the TF’s office. They both sigh with relief, seeing the door is still open, and slow their pace some. As they approach Bucky catches a flash of red hair which gives him pause. He darts his left hand out, snagging Darcy’s wrist. The contrast between her soft skin under his fingertips and his essay pressed against his palm is almost startling.

Darcy looks up, lips turned down in a frown as she takes a breath to speak. Bucky covers her mouth with his right hand and purses his lips in a ‘Shhhhh’ motion. Once Darcy understands she nods and Bucky drops his hand. ‘Stay here,’ he mouths, sliding her paper from between her fingers and silently walking toward the drop box mounted outside the door. Dropping the papers in there, Bucky peers around the frame. 

Natasha’s red hair stands out stark against the drab gray of the room, cubicles lining the wall to signal the division of the fellows’ desks. Their TF, Bruce Banner, is holding her hands up in front of him clasped at the wrists. _”What are you doing?”_ He asks Natasha. 

Natasha shrugs. _”I’m taking a chance,”_ she says, voice damn near coy.

What?

Bruce stares at her for a few moments longer. The words seem to strike a chord in him.

 _”What are you taking a chance on?”_ he asks carefully. 

Natasha shifts back and forth. _”You,”_ she says. _“Bruce, I just want to be here to - “_

 _”Watch a cluster of cells turn me into a monster?”_ Bruce interrupts her. Bucky can’t really see Natasha’s face but he can imagine the expression on it. Bruce completely deflates. _”Go home, Natasha. I’m not starting the treatment, it’s a moot point,”_ he says, stepping back from her a couple paces before letting go of her wrists.

Natasha surges forward like a goddamn yo-yo as soon as Bruce lets her go and Bucky has a startling realization that this is not the first time they have done this. Bruce hesitates for just a moment more before he gives in, melting into her touch and tugging on the hair at the base of her neck just the way she likes.

Oh shit.

As Bucky looks on, Darcy obviously about to explode with curiosity, he contemplates interrupting them. He would be entitled; they’ve been having their problems but Bucky had no idea Natasha had fallen for someone else. The thing is, he can’t bring himself to be angry. Sure, he feels distrust and dishonesty and all those dis- emotions...but there is some relief mixed in there.

Bucky backs away from the door slowly, careful to keep out of sight of the room. Darcy’s eyes widen progressively as he approaches her. _”What the hell was that?”_ she hisses.

Bucky shakes his head, _”Banner was busy getting busy, we’re solid,”_ he says, tone much more flippant than he feels about the matter even with his relief mixed in.

Darcy’s eyes widen. _”No!”_ she says, gasping dramatically. _”That tightly wound little man is - “_

 _”Getting a little less tightly wound,”_ the words are out before Bucky can stopped them and he closes his eyes against that reality. He doesn't know why he’s keeping the details to himself. Regardless he hesitates to point out the relationship status that was suddenly shakier than it had been before.

Darcy stares up at him as if she’s searching his face for his actual words. After a moment she starts walking again. _”Well alright then,”_ she says, pausing at the end of the hall to hold the stairwell door open for him.

Bucky sees Darcy for their test the next day. He remembers it as a blur of nervous energy and anxiety he thinks was primarily directed at the test. But he also remembers losing fifteen minutes staring at the back of Darcy’s neck after the proctor shuffles the class up to take the test. Darcy finishes before he does and when he comes out he’s surprised to find she didn't wait for him.

Two days later, the day before Thanksgiving break, he stops by her dorm under the guise of saying goodbye. Truthfully, she hasn't answered his texts and he feels weird going off to break without seeing her.

When Darcy opens her door her eyes widen slightly. _“Oh, hey,”_ she says, biting her lip and looking away.

Bucky arches an eyebrow at her reaction. _“Oh, hey,”_ he repeats, tone damn near mocking. _“You didn't text me back. I wanted to grab dinner with you before you head back to your side of the hill.”_

Darcy sighs, scratching the back of her head. Then she does something so incredibly Darcy-like that Bucky can actually hear his heart thump inside his chest in response afterward.

 _”Okay, look, is this you feeling guilty? ‘Cause I gotta say I already filed you away as one of those really pretty boys that’s used to having friends with stupid crushes on him and just takes them in stride. But every time we start talking about sex or relationships going on around us you get so_ weird _. I understand, okay. You don’t see me like that.”_ As soon as Darcy finishes speaking a blush takes hold of her entire face. Her gaze holds firm for a few moments before she ultimately end up looking at her shoes.

Bucky doesn't try and stop the smile that tugs at his lips. _“Ms. Lewis, if I didn't know any better I’d say you’re telling me your underlying intentions in befriending me have been to get me naked.”_ Only he’s already inching into her space, which Darcy is too busy with her embarrassment to realize. 

_“Those weren't intentions. Those were wishful thoughts,”_ she mutters. Looking up, a jump and a squeak accompany her eyes growing to the size of saucers. 

_”You make a very good point.”_

Bucky kisses Darcy then, entire body melting into her as if that is exactly what he’s meant to do. He slides his hands into her hair, bunching the strands up in his fingers and settling his palms at the base of her skull. 

The tug is subtle. Delicate fingers on Bucky’s elbow. They encourage him to cross the threshold. 

Hands drop down, arms encircle her body, and Bucky’s lifting her up. In response Darcy’s arms wrap around his neck, securing herself against him. Bucky knocks the door closed with his heel.

It feels right and good and warm. They make it as far as the kitchen table, Bucky setting Darcy down on the wood and dropping to his knees.

Darcy doesn't let him go down on her. She tries, he can tell she tries to relax, but she stops him just after slipping off the panties under her skirt.

 _“Don't get me wrong,”_ Darcy says, carding a hand through Bucky’s hair where he’s got his forehead resting against her thigh. He takes a deep, calming breath. _”I’m a fan. Promise. All about getting your mouth anywhere you’ll put it. But I'm not gonna come like that tonight so why don’t we skip it and you get up here.”_

Sex doesn't clarify anything. It never does. They have to do that later.

Bucky wakes from the memory with a start and an aching hard on. Fantastic.

Attempting to will it away, he looks at his clock and sees he’s up half an hour before his alarm. After a moment's thought Bucky pulls himself out of bed. A shower would be wonderful right about now.

Only, Darcy’s hair is still stuck to the wall from where she’d forgotten to clean it off after her last shower there. And that shampoo she likes somehow ended up right next to his on the ground, knocked over from when they --

Bucky’s hand skitters over his cock as he recalls fucking Darcy against the wall, hips grinding back into him while he angled his hand to make circles around her clit. He can still hear the echo of her breathy moans mixed with the sound of water spattering the shower walls. Bucky’s breath hitches as he picks up a steady rhythm before tipping over the edge. 

“Fuck,” Bucky bites out when the flood of relief recedes and that longing ache fill his gut again. He hears the metal grinding of the towel bar more than feels it as his hand switches to ‘crush’ on it’s list of tricks.

Dressing is done on autopilot. By the time he’s leaving for the shop Bucky can’t remember if he’s actually done any of the things he’s supposed to do to ready himself for the day.

On the way out the door he glances at the clock one last time. He may have gotten up early, but now he’s running late. It isn’t until the door clicks that Bucky realizes he’s left his house as well as shop keys on the kitchen counter. Bucky closes his eyes for a moment. How could he do that? It’s a rookie mistake he certainly doesn't have time for this morning. Not with everything he has to figure out.

But when Bucky opens his eyes again something rather startling has happened; he’s standing behind the counter at his shop serving the last customer in a line.

As the customer walks away Bucky surveys his surroundings. Maybe he never woke up and that distant memory he has of locking his keys in the apartment was a dream?

The pit blooming in Bucky’s stomach tells him that wasn't a dream. Just after eleven when Clint arrives for his shift Bucky steps out of the shop to confirm his suspicions. The mangled lock-box on the ground behind the building does just that.

Bucky’s phone is out and he’s dialing the familiar number in moments. The line rings a few times before it’s picked up and Bucky hears a groggy, “Hello?”

“I - shit, I don't remember coming into work,” he says, deciding beating around the bush would just waste time. “I locked my keys in my apartment and then I was here. I broke the lock-box to get to the spare cafe keys. I don't remember doing that but it’s crushed to shit.”

Bucky pauses and he hears rustling on the other end, “I'll be there in twenty minutes.” They hang up after that but not before Bucky hears a soft “Hey” and “Something’s wron-”.

Heaving a sigh, Bucky heads back inside. Everything seems to be just how he left it except his office door is cracked open now. Bucky narrows his eyes and heads across the cafe. Once inside he spots Bruce sitting on the couch.

Bruce starts immediately, “I came by for a cup of tea and saw you going around the side of the building. I decided to come in and wait.” He stares at Bucky a few moments and Bucky knows exactly what he sees. Bucky’s face is pale but his heart is pounding. He hasn’t blacked out in _years_.

“Aw fuck,” Bucky hisses, dropping down onto the couch next to Bruce.

Bruce’s gaze shifts from evaluative to concerned. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Bucky says. “I don’t remember,” he adds quietly, running his hands over his face,

“Oh,” Bruce says, eyebrows jumping up. “Oh dear,” he adds. 

Bucky nods, trying to calm his racing heart. 

“Well, what’s the last thing you do remember?” Bruce asks.

Bucky takes a deep breath. “I locked my keys in my apartment this morning,” he says slowly. 

Bruce nods. “Okay, so you think the disassociation happened after that?”

“Yeah.” Bucky is so distracted it takes until this point in the conversation for him to remember who he’s talking to. When he does all he can see is Bruce with his hands up in Natasha’s hair. “You fucked my girlfriend,” he says suddenly, turning to look at Bruce.

Bruce’s eyebrows escape up toward his hairline again. “Excuse me?” he asks, clearly taken aback.

Bucky shakes his head. “Back - back then. Natasha, when I was dating her, you fucked her,” he repeats. “Dude.”

Bruce blinks at Bucky, completely frozen. When he finally moves, he kind of sags. “I’ve been gone for three days, what the _hell_ did I miss?” He sounds utterly baffled.

Pressing his lips into a thin smile, Bucky shrugs. “Darcy walked me through the biology building,” he says.

Bruce closes his eyes for a moment. Bucky knows that look well, the look of one of his friends sifting through the memories he may now have of them. 

“Did you know Natasha when I started taking your class?” he asks. There's no hesitation when Bruce shakes his head. Bucky frowns. “What?” is all he can think to say.

Bruce scratches the back of his neck, expression bordering on sheepish. “She, um, well Natasha, she came to make a presentation for the honor society to one of my graduate courses. I didn't realize she was still pursuing her BA until she - well, Natasha showed up after your biology class one day. It was your birthday.”

Bucky’s frown has morphed into something closer to a perpetual look of perplexity. “I don’t remember -” Bucky stops himself, rephrases. “I haven't remembered anything about that,” he says, words damn near pained as he slowly chooses them.

“You wouldn’t necessarily,” Bruce says quickly. “You didn't see her. But, she saw you. And she saw - “ Bruce cuts off abruptly. 

Eyebrows furrowed, it takes Bucky a moment to make the connect. He rolls his eyes, “Darcy? Did she see Darcy?”

Bruce nods stiffly but the relief is easy to read.

“Okay. She saw me and she saw Darcy...doing what?” Because Bucky’s birthday is in September. Nothing happened with Darcy before then. He knows that. He absolutely knows that.

Bruce’s expression softens from it’s previously borderline panicked state. “Sometimes it’s difficult to see when you’re in it,” he says by way of an answer.

Shaking his head, Bucky’s perplexity has flipped back to frustration. “What? See what, Bruce?”

“How you two acted together,” Bruce says. On the verge of asking him what the hell that means, Bucky is thankful when Bruce continues quickly. “You didn't see her come in, Darcy was helping you clean up after class. When Natasha left as quickly as she came in I followed her out. I remembered her from her presentation and didn't know why she was there,” he says. “It took me a moment, but when I remembered her name I called out to her in the hallway. I don't think she would have spared me a second glance. But when she looked back she must have put two and two together ‘cause she came to me, determined. She asked if you always looked at Darcy like that.”

Bucky groans, “I don't understand what the fuck that means!” He knows Bruce is trying to explain it but he’s experiencing a real yearning for people who use descriptive words. 

Bruce grins and Bucky works not to be annoyed at Bruce’s fond memory of his own wife. “Her words? Like a kid on Christmas morning,” he says.

Something drops in Bucky’s gut at the phrase he’d so recently thought himself to describe the way Bruce looks at Natasha and he’s hit with startling clarity how deeply Natasha is woven into his past. His goddamn vocabulary. 

“So what’d you tell her?” Bucky asks after a slow breath.

Bruce arches an eyebrow. “I told her that sometimes you looked at Darcy like it was your birthday,” he says dryly. Bucky could almost picture that. Bruce had an easy way with honesty that caught people off guard. Knowing Natasha, she probably laughed. Men didn’t make her laugh, at least not genuinely. 

Bucky’s thoughts shift direction again. “Were you two honestly fucking that entire time? Until we broke up?” He can't keep the anxiety out of his voice but he isn't wholly sure what he's anxious about. 

Bruce shakes his head slowly, “I’d really rather not discuss this.”

Bucky simply blinks at him.

With a sigh, Bruce runs his fingers over the arm of the couch as if trying to memorize the fibers. Or ground himself. “There was nothing consistent between myself and Natasha before your relationship ended. I wouldn't allow it. I - “

“Was sick,” Bucky interrupts suddenly, mind flashing back to the memory of his conversation with Bruce on the ground. 

Clearing his throat, when Bruce speaks the sound is surprisingly pained yet forceful. “There is no explanation, no _excuse_ , that could possibly justify what I did to Natasha back then. It didn't go away, nothing I do can erase it. I deserve to live with that. Because she has to. And you don't make someone carry that alone.” 

The tone is so firm and topic so pointed that Bucky feels his mind slingshot through the memories of Darcy triggered by Bruce’s little speech. 

_She must have been so scared._

Bucky tries to chase the memories down, to catalog them. He stops immediately when he begins to feel a sort of tunnel vision that makes his stomach drop.

 _You don't have to do this now. We have time._ Darcy’s voice is so clear in Bucky’s head he’s tempted to look around the room for her. _You need to stop or it’s gonna happen again, yo._ Bucky wants to tense, positive this is the next step in losing his mind. But her voice is so soothing. The ache it’s accompanied by keeps him present.

With a blink Steve is standing in the room in front of him, eyes filled with panic. “Come on Buck, say something.” His voice is small, scared.

A cursory glance around the room let's Bucky know he checked out. In addition to Steve’s presence, Bruce is hovering in the doorway and Bucky is now sitting behind his desk.

“Ah fuck,” Bucky mutters.

If he didn't know any better Bucky would swear Steve was on the verge of relieved tears. “You sure know how to scare a guy,” he says. He sounds amused but his eyes haven't relaxed in the least. 

Guilty as he feels, Bucky ignores Steve. “What did I do?” He asks Bruce, who’s leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest.

“Look, I don't think -” Steve begins.

Speaking quickly, Bruce’s words are out before Steve has a chance to finish his objection. “You stopped moving, stood up, and sat down behind your desk.”

“No no, it’s fine. Everytime we ignore Steve it goes so well.”

Bucky ignores Steve. “Have I ever done that before?”

Shaking his head slowly, Bruce seems to be considering the question. “Not that I've witnessed. Once you enter a fugue state, I’ve never seen you leave one without being shocked from it or playing it out.”

“Fugue state?” Steve repeats the phrase as if he doesn't know it, but he does. Wait. Maybe Bucky just assumes everyone does now. 

Bruce purses his lips, “Imagine your mind’s been following a certain path your whole life and that path and its complexities is what makes you ‘Steve’. Now, imagine all of a sudden your mind says, ‘This path looks like less work’ and jumps over. Only the more simple path doesn't follow, ‘Steve’. This new Steve is working off of your semantic memory, or rather the part of your memory that processes learned facts and concepts you haven’t necessarily experienced. Like, history lessons and theoretical concepts. This new Steve’s goal is to maintain that simplicity your normal mind won't let it experience so it doesn't break down further.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a few moments, seeming to process the information given to him. Finally, he nods to himself. “So his brain is going on ‘Safe Mode’?” 

“To put it crudely, yes.”

Bucky hears the explanation come together to remind him that, after all this time, he’s still broken.

“So, why does he keep trying to go into a ‘fugue state’?” Steve sounds so agitated Bucky knows he’s petrified. Steve doesn't like problems he can't solve.

Shifting in his spot by the door, Bruce purses his lips. “I know it’s a scary prospect, but with all his memories filtering back in like they are,” Bruce shrugs, “I think he’s just getting overwhelmed.”

Arching an eyebrow, Steve sighs. “Just?”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “He only has so many, Steve. It’s not like he’s storing the memories of a ninety year old. He’ll get them all back eventually,” he says.

“Until then?”

“We wait it out,” Bucky mutters. 

Steve’s concern doesn’t shift. “You honestly think we can? When has that ever been an option?”

“He’s already put it off a handful of times that we know of,” Bruce answers without pause. “At this point it might be about keeping his stress levels low while everything settles in.”

Steve takes a moment to blink at Bruce again. If it was anyone else the blink would still be an indicator of opinion on the situation. For Steve it genuinely means he’s trying to put his thoughts in order. “Why now?”

Bruce arches an eyebrow at him, surely to save Bucky the trouble. “What are the chances I can get through your question without sending him right into another near-fugue?”

The answer slots into place for Bucky as if Bruce screamed it. _Darcy_.

“How can my brain be so wrapped around one person?” Bucky mutters. He doesn't intend to verbalize it but it’s such a powerful question.

Immediately deep in thought following Bucky’s question, Bruce moves back to his previous spot on the couch. “I don't think it’s her, specifically. The fact that your mind was forced to process the rest of us right away, people that were associated with the damaged tissue, must have had an impact on the connections that fired when you were around us. But she was introduced primarily after the tissue had healed. With your injury progressed as it has, and primarily the mental health component to focus on, a would think her memories would be the most easily accessible.”

Steve and Bucky blinked at Bruce for a few moments. “Let’s just remember I passed the bar, and even I'm going to need you to spell that out a little bit,” Steve finally says on an exhale. 

Bruce actually snorts. “I think maybe your brain became so good at avoiding memories of us that were stored in the injured parts of the tissue while it was healing, both physically and emotionally, that it forgot how to find them once those parts healed. But since it didn't have to avoid the memories of her in the injured parts, it still unconsciously knew how to access them. Almost like a kind of muscle memory for your mind.”

Bucky feels his face heat. It isn't anger. It presses at the back of his eyes. He ignores it. “So I forgot how to remember everyone?”

Pursing his lips, Bruce shoots Steve a look. “The way I explained it sounded nicer, didn't it?”

Steve nods. “Your teaching skills are tops, Bruce. But can we focus?”

Bruce shakes his head at Steve before returning his attention to Bucky. “You kind of live in a vacuum in this town, but it's good your mind is learning how to guard itself in the right ways. Even if it makes you feel out of sorts right now.”

Clearing his throat, Steve catches Bucky’s eye. “Why don't you let me take you home, bud?”

Bucky nods without pause. “We have to stop by my Super’s on the way,” he adds quickly, trying to ignore thoughts of keys and locked doors just in case.


	3. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mind already working to place when Bucky could have lost time like that, he doesn’t miss Steve shifting in front of the door. “When did it start?” he says, choosing to look at Darcy rather than comment on it._
> 
> _Darcy stares at Bucky for a beat before she answers. “After the first cup of coffee,” she says, voice firm now. “I woke up at three a.m. to get some water and found you sitting on the fire escape,” she adds, motioning to a sliding glass door at the end of the apartment covered in thick curtains to keep out the cold. “Do you remember what you told me?”_
> 
> _Shaking his head, before Bucky can get the ‘no’ out he swears he feels the rungs of the balcony pressing into his back. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “Yeah I think I do.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello again! It's been a loooooooong minute - ah that's too cutesy. It's been a little under a year. Let me start off by saying thank you to anyone who has stuck around to wait for this and hello to any new comers! 
> 
> While this update is nowhere near as long as you all deserve, I hope the information given in it makes everyone less anxious for the future of our favorite couple. If I'm gonna go this long between updates, I really need to be careful about that. lol
> 
> During an interaction between Bucky and Steve in this chapter, I do reference a scene in the little Pietro/Steve companion piece I have going. If you're interested in the scene but don't want to read the whole story, you can find that [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299589/chapters/27960261#workskin) around the words, _"Steve would have choked on pizza again if he risked another bite."_.
> 
> This chapter hasn't been fully beta'd yet, so don't hesitate to let me know if you see any discrepancies. 
> 
> Thank you again and I hope you enjoy!

_”You know, if you did decide to let this whole Adonis thing go, we could exist on take-out and never leave the bed.”_

Bucky grunts out a laugh as Darcy pokes him in the stomach while he rinses shampoo from his hair. _”Catch-22 inherent in your plan, doll. We'd have to leave the bed to get the take-out.”_

 _”I’m sure we could pay them extra to bring it inside,”_ Darcy says dismissively, nails scratching lightly at his lower abdomen. 

Attempting to clear shampoo from his eyes, Bucky makes a half-hearted effort to squirm away from Darcy’s fingers and is rewarded with a cold wall against his warm back. Instinctually he shuffles forward with a yelp and Darcy laughs.

Shampoo cleared, fingers to the ribs have squeals coming from Darcy as she tries to move away. 

They don't hear anyone come into the apartment until Steve yells from the other room, _“Aw come on, I use that shower!”_

Opening her mouth to respond, Darcy snaps it shut when Bucky snags her around the waist. She grunts in surprise when he backs her into the now-warm shower wall. The resulting thump must be answer enough for Steve. The front door opens and shuts not too long after.

They don't hear it.

Breasts and soft skin, flesh and bone hands gripping tense thighs. Darcy is all he's aware of.

Then, just like that, everything snaps out of focus. Smooth skin gives way to rough sheets and warm water turns to still air.

“Fuck.”

Opening his eyes, Bucky realizes immediately he isn't in his apartment. The walls are bare with the exception of a few things pinned up around the bed and an ornate picture holder, shaped like a tree, mounted by the door. The bed itself is relatively small. And there are waist high bookcases, all overflowing with books, lining every available wall. 

It's-- Bucky’s already dry mouth turns his swallow into a choke as he desperately tries to create some saliva. 

Darcy. Darcy’s room. He’s in Darcy’s room in her apartment. Her door is closed but there are harsh whispers coming from the other side. 

The memories don't hide from him. They don't filter in immediately, but the pieces fit together quickly enough. And then he's in the memory.

Bucky climbs down the fire escape because Steve is asleep in the living room. His boots and coat are by the front door so he pulls old things out of the bedroom closet. He takes the long way because when Natasha can’t sleep she runs a path right past Darcy’s block. 

Getting into the building itself isn't difficult, the door sticks. It's more difficult to break into the apartment. But he manages. Without much thought or preparation, he manages. Slipping into her room, he remembers contemplating how to wake her without startling her. 

Bucky freezes when he realizes Darcy is sitting up with her arms crossed over her bent knees and her chin propped on her forearm. 

_“Mrs. Balic in 7D called me. Said someone was ‘skulking’ toward my apartment.”_

The words start tumbling out immediately. _”They used to lock me in a box.”_ His voice is rough to his own ears and the information feels as new to him when he says it as it must be to Darcy. _”They’d strap my head in, arms and legs too, and they’d slide the box into a drawer. At least it felt like a drawer, I don't know. They’d leave me in there for days.”_ His voice wavers. He clears his throat. Shakes his head. _”Being at the compound was never fun. But going into that drawer was the worst part of my week.”_ A pause. Breath in, out. Shiver. _”Every time I close my eyes I’m in that fucking drawer.”_

When Darcy’s fingers wrap around his wrists, he isn't surprised. Bucky watched her stand from the bed and walk over to him. But it’s jarring all the same. He doesn't flinch when she lifts a hand and waves it in front of his face. 

_”Oh Jamie.”_ Her eyes are searching even in the dim moonlight streaming through the window. Bucky doesn’t even register the change in the name she calls him.

Darcy touches Bucky’s temple, brushes loose strands of hair behind his ear. Bucky shivers and his eyes try to flutter shut as he leans into the touch. They don't. Darcy sucks in a quick breath but doesn't pull her hand away.

 _”I’m so tired,”_ he says. Leaning down, Bucky’s rests his forehead against Darcy’s. She tenses before carding another hand through his hair. She doesn't pull away. _”Can I lay down for a bit?”_ he asks.

She nods. Hiccuping, she growls. He lifts his forehead from hers to stare unfocused at her face.

 _”I'm sorry,”_ Bucky says.

Darcy's already shaking her head. _“No, baby. No. You didn’t do anything wrong.”_ A scratch of her nails across the base of his skull punctuates the sentence. Hands slide down his neck, shoulders, arms to catch on his wrists again as Darcy starts to walk backward. _”Come lay down,”_ she says, voice measured.

In the silence immediately following Darcy's words Bucky can hear her heart pounding. It's loud and startling and-- it takes Bucky an extra moment to realize he doesn't hear it. He can feel it where her wrist is pressed to his left arm.

Looking down, Bucky follows the pulse point now as it moves under her skin. Blood pumping in her veins. Bucky's eyes move up to her neck and the fingers of his left hand constrict around her forearm. 

_”You need to call Steve,”_ he says calmly. With what feels like herculean effort, Bucky opens his hand and pulls his left arm away from her.

Darcy nods. _”I'm glad you're on board with that,”_ she says, using her remaining grip on his right arm to keep walking him toward the bed. _”Because I texted Jane and Steve as soon as I got off the phone with Mrs. Balic.”_ Bucky looks at her as she lightly presses him backward until he allows himself to sit. She looks relieved now in a way she didn’t before.

Bucky wants to tell her that he understands. That he's not sure who he brought to her door. With the way she watches him, he thinks she doesn't need him to point that out. Instead of tensing, his entire body relaxes. He’s shifting his weight before he can think better of it, swinging his feet up on the bed to lay his head on her pillow. _”I’m just gonna lay here for a bit before he comes. Maybe that’ll make it better.”_

 _”I really hope so,”_ she says, giving him a soft smile. After a moment’s hesitation, she reaches up to brush his face. Her hand rests on his cheek for seventeen seconds. Bucky can feel every accelerated beat of her pulse. 

_”Please don’t be scared of me,”_ Bucky rasps out.

 _”I never want to be.”_ As soon as the words come out of Darcy's mouth, she huffs out a breath. _”Dude, move over.”_ Bucky slides back against the wall without thinking, Darcy folding onto the bed next to him. _”Lay down.”_

Bucky settles against the pillow and realizes Darcy has slipped her arm under his neck. Her other arm goes around his body and like flipping a switch, Bucky can't keep his eyes open anymore.

Shaking his head to clear the fuzz of the memory, Bucky stares unblinking at the closed door now.

Two of the voices in the living room are still loud and angry, going back and forth at a hurried pace. Occasionally a deeper voice comes in, calmer but still upset.

Sitting up to climb out of Darcy's bed, Bucky stops to listen when that deeper voices raises. 

“What exactly do you expect me to do?” It's Steve. “This is _why_ you're here. You can pretend all you want, but we both know if you're not here to help Darcy then you're running from your own monsters. You don't want to face that, so you're here to help Darcy. I can't lock him down at night, she won't let me even when I want to, and we can't go see a specialist because we're not allowed to leave the city. So you tell me what you expect _me_ to do?”

The reply comes quickly, with no pause for Bucky to wholly process the information he's just heard, “I expect you to ignore her.” Jane.

“Oh thanks, Jane. I’ll remember that next time you want to follow a fucking prince across -- ” Darcy. 

“Oh here we go again. Because I worry for your safety, I'm being a hypocrite.” She must throw something because there's a loud, hollow thump. “He breaks into our apartment regularly, Darcy! He doesn't remember doing it! How are you okay with this?” 

At this point Bucky has enough information to understand what they're saying. Well, some of it. Whoever was about to speak stops abruptly as the door creaks open.

“Oh fuck,” Darcy breathes out, eyes meeting Bucky's. 

Mouth working as he walks toward them, Bucky tries to line up his thoughts. “I've done this before?” He finally says, coming to a stop at the end of the hall. 

Jane scoffs and turns away from the group, moving into the kitchen. 

“Yes,” Steve says after an additional pause. 

“How many times?”

“Look, why don't w-”

“Steve.”

Steve sighs. 

“Maybe seven or eight times.” Darcy is so quiet Bucky barely hears her. Barely.

Mind already working to place when Bucky could have lost time like that, he doesn’t miss Steve shifting in front of the door. “When did it start?” he says, choosing to look at Darcy rather than comment on it.

Darcy stares at Bucky for a beat before she answers. “After the first cup of coffee,” she says, voice firm now. “I woke up at three a.m. to get some water and found you sitting on the fire escape,” she adds, motioning to a sliding glass door at the end of the apartment covered in thick curtains to keep out the cold. “Do you remember what you told me?”

Shaking his head, before Bucky can get the ‘no’ out he swears he feels the rungs of the balcony pressing into his back. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “Yeah I think I do.” Because when she came outside to sit with him, he wasn’t lost. He knew exactly who she was and exactly why she was there. 

_”You look good, Darc. It was really nice to see you today.”_

Bucky scrubs a hand over his face as conversations come rushing back to him. “Aw fuck,” because that longing is ripping through his chest again. “I always remembered, didn’t I?” 

Darcy nods slowly. “Every detail when you showed up like that, down to the name of the magazine you stole from the corner store when you were sixteen and the way my hair felt in your left hand.” After finishing speaking, Darcy flips her eyes to where Jane stands in the kitchen, “You wanna ask me again how I’m okay with this?” 

Only Jane clearly doesn’t want to fight any more. She has fingers pressed over her lips. “Jesus Christ,” she whispers. “You didn’t tell me--”

“You didn’t want to listen,” Darcy interrupts. She looks back at Bucky, “You remember when it happened last?”

He nods. Because it was the morning she showed up at the coffee shop claiming her heat was broken. Though it wasn’t a claim, he remembers being very cold. When the bulk of the memory settles in, Bucky barks out a laugh.

Gaze hard as it is, Darcy’s mouth quirks up. “I was really hoping you'd remember that.”

Of course he does. If you forget a girl telling you she’s gonna go camp out in front of your shop in the snow until you come to work, you owe it to her to remember it again as quickly as possible.

At least, that's what she said to him after promising she was going to do that. 

They'd been arguing for twenty minutes about how unpredictable Bucky’s memory was and Darcy must have been so frustrated. _”I swear, yo, I’ll go camp out in front of the shop door.”_ She said when Bucky said he was going to stop coming by because he needed to get all the pieces of his head together.

 _”You fucking brat, you’re not gonna camp out in the snow just to see me.”_ Bucky should have immediately regretted his words, because that is exactly what she did. And he loves every ounce of her tenacity.

“Darc,” he begins slowly. “I’m not--”

Wagging a finger at him, Darcy accompanies the motion by shaking her head. “Dude, we do not have to have this conversation now. I know you’re not that guy I knew, and you’re not the Luke Danes-style coffee shop owner you’ve made yourself out to be. You’re just you. And I - “

“ _Darc_ ,” He says more firmly this time, because just looking at her fills him with warmth and he needs her to know. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Darcy’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ and a blush flushes her cheeks. Bucky does his damnedest to keep his hands to himself. 

“Noted.”

Unable to stop himself ultimately, Bucky reaches out his right hand to snag Darcy forward. His lips connect with her forehead and it’s as if the air leaves the room. She wraps her arms around his body and buries her face against his chest, relief palpable. 

For once, his treacherous brain has done the right thing. 

Steve sits in the shop with Bucky all Sunday afternoon after they leave Darcy’s to relieve Clint from his impromptu post. Steve’s taken up an entire table with case documents but Bucky can’t deny he appreciates the company. Since he woke up at Darcy's, Bucky is having new problems with becoming overstimulated. If the cafe becomes too full or if too many people demand Bucky’s attention at once he starts to experience some sickeningly familiar tunnel vision. Clint had to take over four drink orders due to Bucky spacing out and Steve had to stepped in for him three times since Clint left. 

They refuse to point out what it is, but Bucky remembers that feeling of tunnel vision before a blackout. The feeling of starting to disassociate. It had been so long Bucky didn’t think he’d remember that, but he absolutely does now that he recognizes what is happening.

Steve grabs a rag from Bucky’s hand when he catches him staring off into space for too long and goes to start wiping down tables. Rolling his eyes, Bucky moves behind the register to count down his drawer. 

As Bucky counts the drawer an almost ethereal sense of calm washes over him. He’s speaking before he thinks about the words, “If you weren't so goddamn big I’d swear it was sophomore year.” 

Because Bucky and Steve worked in a diner together their sophomore year of high school for two months. Two wonderful months of getting tipped out every night under the table and running to GameStop early before school the next day. 

Steve laughs quickly, trying to hide his surprised hesitation, “Oh right, before my Ma made us quit.”

“Did she - did she walk us down there or did I make that up somewhere along the way?” Bucky asks quietly.

Pausing in his work, Steve gives Bucky a reassuring smile. “She did in fact walk us down to the store,” he says simply. Then he goes back to wiping tables.

Even though Steve confirmed Bucky’s memory in the most straightforward and nonjudgmental way, Bucky feels the shift in the air. He thinks it’s been years since Steve’s let him see this. Once more, the words tumble out before Bucky can think about them, “I'm sorry I forgot so much of her.”

With that sentence Steve stops wiping again, leaning on the table to hang his head. “It’s okay, Buck,” he says, tone high and pinched, before drawing in a shaky breath. 

Setting the money he’d been counting back in the drawer, Bucky comes around the counter. “Aw Stevie.” He tugs his best friend into a hug. Steve’s stiff, one arm coming up to pat Bucky’s back as he continues to take measured breathes. Only now Bucky remembers Steve as a growing teenager, fighting every ounce of emotion in his big heart. Burying pain and fear under loss and anger. Bucky pulls Steve closer and presses the words into the side of his head, “Didn’t we decide? _To the end of the line,_ punk. I just get a little lost about the nuances, is all.”

A shiver runs through Steve’s body but it’s the only change Bucky feels before Steve’s other arm comes up and he’s burying his face in Bucky’s neck. “You didn’t go anywhere. Why do I feel like I lost you?” Steve’s voice is still pinched and Bucky tightens his right arm around the other man.

“I think I was missing some formative experiences there, pal,” Bucky says, amused tone poking fun at a particular memory of teen hope and realization when Steve was first coming out. *

Steve barks out a wet laugh, pulling back just a bit. “Was wondering when you’d get that back.”

The chime of the bell above the shop door finds the two of them wrapped around each other like that. Pietro stands at the front with a myriad of bags. He looks like he wants to back out, embarrassed for interrupting. 

“I was picking up dinner and I thought it would make sense to give you both a ride home,” Pietro says quickly, without much in the way of a greeting. He holds the bags up for them to see. “I wasn't sure what to get, but I hope you like panic food.”

Turns out Pietro isn't exaggerating. When they get back to Bucky’s apartment they discover that one bag contains two sushi rolls and an assortment of sashimi. Another bag holds what looks like tandoori chicken and four kinds of curry. A third is filled with hamburgers and fries. The fourth, Chinese food containers. The fifth, and final bag, is weighed down with wrapped items they soon discover are gyros. 

They set the food out buffet-style on Bucky's kitchen counter and each take as much as they can carry to the sitting room.

Two hours into some seemingly mindless family dramas, Steve starts shifting around in his seat. Now that Bucky's watching, he can see how quickly Steve is blinking his eyes. After a few moments, Steve's eyelids settle and he gives one quick sniffle. The third time he watches Steve do that, unable to look away at this point, he catches Pietro doing the same.

Bucky smiles at Pietro. “He tell you much about his Ma?”

Shaking his head slowly, Pietro casts heavy eyes toward Steve. Previously on the verge of tears, Steve’s now staring at Bucky with his mouth dropped in surprise. Pietro’s desire to go to him is still palpable. “I don't think he has,” Pietro says quickly.

“She was a hell of a lady,” Bucky provides with a look so genuine it hurts to offer. He surprises himself with his next words, “Today was her birthday.” 

The sentence cracks across the apartment, jarring and necessary at the same time. Because Steve doesn't talk about Sarah. Which Bucky knew. 

But this, remembering it’s her birthday, celebrating it, Steve deserves that. 

The snot filled sniffle that comes from Steve might honestly be one of the more disgusting things Bucky has heard. Pietro twitches again from his spot across the room, eyes fixed on Steve’s white-knuckle grip on his empty coffee cup.

Extending a leg out from a nearby recliner to kick Pietro, Bucky gestures toward Steve. “The fuck you doing, kid? Go handle your man,” he instructs. 

Pietro is up like a shot, entering Steve's space without hesitation. To Steve's credit, he readily accepts the offered comfort as he lets his head be tucked against the younger man's chest. “Will you tell me about her?” Pietro says against the top of Steve's head. 

Rather than answer, Steve nods his head firmly a few times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * this is a reference to a scene in the little Pietro/Steve companion piece I have going. If you're interested in the scene but don't want to read the whole story, you can find that [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299589/chapters/27960261#workskin) around the words, _"Steve would have choked on pizza again if he risked another bite."_.


End file.
